Three Days
by autolat
Summary: A pre-Hogwarts ficlet. The Dursleys aren't happy with Harry. WARNING: CHILD ABUSE


Harry looked down at his picture of a flying motorcycle.  There was a large man driving it, and a small bundle was in his arms.  The man was completely out of proportion with the rest of the picture – he was much too big, but Harry didn't want to change it.

"Well done Harry.  A fine drawing as usual, although isn't the man a little big?"  Mr. Kilborne smiled and moved on down the row without waiting for Harry's reply.  He was a nice teacher, and a good artist, but sometimes just a little absentminded.

The bell rang and Harry slipped his picture into his desk, taking as long as possible to tidy up his paints and pencils.  By the time he was done, everyone was out of the classroom and outside at recess.  Slowly Harry moved down the hallway and outside, only to be met by Dudley and his gang.  

"C'mon."  Dudley moved towards the abandoned tool shed at the edge of the playground, and Harry followed.  He knew that if he didn't, if he tried to resist, Dudley would tell his father and Harry would have it worse at home.

They didn't go inside the shed, it wasn't allowed, and instead they moved around back.  Dudley threw the first punch and hit Harry in the stomach.  Harry doubled over, his arms gripping his torso.

"What is going on here?"  Harry recognized the voice as Mrs. Wade, the math teacher.  "All of you.  Follow me."  Mrs. Wade turned on her heel and led them to the principal's office.  Fighting on school grounds was strictly forbidden and Dudley received a three-day suspension.  Aunt Petunia was called to take Dudley home and she took Harry with her after the school nurse decided that he should take the rest of the day off.

The car ride back to 4 Privit Drive was silent, but once inside the house Aunt Petunia threw Harry into his cupboard.

"Just wait until your Uncle gets home!"

Harry stared at the wall of his cupboard.  He had tried to hang pictures there once, but his Aunt had ripped them all down.  Now all that was left were the little circles of tape, some with the corners of his drawings still attached.  Eventually he fell asleep, only to be awakened by Uncle Vernon.

"Do you like getting Dudley in trouble?"  His voice was dangerously soft.  "We heard the whole story boy.  I know that you dragged Dudley behind the shed.  I know that you threw the first punch and that when you saw a teacher you doubled over to place the blame on Dudley.  Dudley told us everything, boy."  

Harry remained silent, he could handle it when his uncle was yelling at him – he was used to that – but this new, soft voice was more dangerous and scarier then anything else.  Suddenly his uncle's foot lifted and caught him in the side of his head.

"Stand up, boy."  Harry stood.  His head hurt and he could hear his pulse pounding in his ear.  Uncle Vernon's fist caught him in the jaw and Harry reeled backwards, pain spreading throughout his entire head.  A knee connected with his stomach and Harry fell down, instinctively rolling into the fetal position.  

"Can I help, Dad?"

_Oh god, Dudley._  Harry thought.  Dudley's voice was full of excitement – he had never been allowed to help his father beat Harry.  

"Go into the kitchen, Dudley.  Your mother and I have a special job for you."  

Harry blinked to clear his vision – everything was hazy.  Uncle Vernon grabbed an arm and hauled him to his feet.  "Into the kitchen with you."  He gave Harry a push and Harry stumbled into the kitchen, his vision still a little fuzzy.  Aunt Petunia and Dudley were huddled around the stove.

"Take off your shirt."  Harry hesitated too long and his Uncle's fist connected with the side of his head.  Hastily Harry took off the dirty tee.  The outline of his ribs was visible beneath his skin and old bruises and cuts stood out on his pale torso.

"Dudley, are you ready?"  Uncle Vernon grabbed Harry's two arms and held them behind his back.

"Yes."  Dudley's voice held a note of sadistic glee.  He turned and Harry could see one of the iron fire pokers in his glove-protected hand.  He moved slowly towards Harry, a large grin on his porky face.  Harry realized what was happening and tried to struggle against his Uncle, but it was futile.  The hot poker drove into his shoulder.  

Harry screamed. 

The smell of burning flesh invaded his nostrils and he retched, but all that came up was bile, which left a stinging sensation in the back of his throat.  Tears coursed down his face and all that kept Harry standing was Uncle Vernon.  It too Harry a moment to realize that Dudley was back at the stove and that Uncle Vernon was laughing.  

Dudley came back at Harry with the hot poker and drove it into another spot in his shoulder.  The pain course down Harry's arm and he wished that he'd black out.  His vision was hazy and all Harry could concentrate on was the pain.  It became his entire world.  He didn't notice the tears on his face, didn't hear Dudley start to laugh, didn't smell his skin as it burned, didn't see Dudley go back to the stove to re-heat the poker.

But he felt it when it stuck his shoulder another time.  The pain became too much and Harry blacked out, but not before hearing his Uncle's soft voice in his ear.

"Three days for Dudley, three burns for you."

Author's Note:  I understand that this is probably not the best place to end, but child abuse isn't pretty and for most children there is no happy ending.  I finished re-reading the book _A Child Called It_, and I feel that child abuse is a seriously overlooked crime in the world today.  I wrote this piece because I want people to understand that, for some kids, not most, but for some, abuse like this does happen.  Most children that are abused are not abused nearly so badly as Harry is in this story, but that doesn't mean that it should be taken any less seriously because even a less painful beating can be just as damaging to the child both physically and mentally.  


End file.
